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The Texan's One-Night Standoff
Charlene Sands
One night leads to a pregnancy bombshell! Only from USA TODAY bestselling author Charlene Sands.Chicago real estate hotshot Brooks Newport is on a quest to find his true father. But tracking him to a small Texas town puts Brooks on a collision course with horse trainer Ruby Lopez. After a no-strings-attached night together, he’s on his way.When Brooks finally meets the father he never knew, he must come to grips with the past—and the very shocking present. Because Ruby works for the man. And she has a secret of her own—not only is Brooks finding his father, he’s about to become one!The Texan's One-Night Standoff is part of the Dynasties: The Newports series.


One night leads to a pregnancy bombshell! Only from USA TODAY bestselling author Charlene Sands.
Chicago real estate hotshot Brooks Newport is on a quest to find his true father. But tracking him to a small Texas town puts Brooks on a collision course with horse trainer Ruby Lopez. After a no-strings-attached night together, he’s on his way.
When Brooks finally meets the father he never knew, he must come to grips with the past—and the very shocking present. Because Ruby works for the man. And she has a secret of her own—not only is Brooks finding his father, he’s about to become one!
The Texan’s One-Night Standoff is part of the Dynasties: The Newports series.
His mouth found hers again, and this time the kiss was hot enough to brand cattle.
A fiery mix of passion and lust, making her forget she didn’t kiss strangers like this, on an open dance floor with half the town watching. But Brooks didn’t let up and she couldn’t pull back or move away, it was that good.
She played with the curling ends of his hair.
He slid his hands lower on her back.
She tucked herself into him.
He groaned and kissed her harder.
The music ended and they hardly noticed. She stared into his blue eyes.
“What now?” he rasped. “You want another dance?”
She shook her head. “I need air.”
He took her hand and led her off the dance floor and out the door of the C’mon Inn. They went around back to an iron and wood bench near a walled garden. “Would you like to sit?” he asked, and before she could answer, he took a seat and reached for her, giving her the option of where on the bench she wanted to plop down.
She chose his lap.
* * *
The Texan’s One-Night Standoff is part of the Dynasties: The Newports series— Passion and chaos consume a Chicago real estate empire!
Dear Reader (#u598f6169-c998-524b-ab91-0259ca9619a1),
I can’t imagine having to search for a long-lost anyone, but real estate mogul and Chicagoan Brooks Newport finally ends his months-long search for his biological father, Beau Preston, in Cool Springs, Texas—aka Small Town, USA. For Brooks it was a labor-intensive, painstaking road to locate his dad after the true circumstances of their separation finally became clear to both father and son.
But for Brooks, their reunion comes with a surprise wrinkle along the way. Ruby Lopez, the Latina spitfire he’d met at the C’mon Inn the night before, is just as happy tossing a man over her petite shoulders as she is training thoroughbreds. Soon, Ruby becomes a temptation, and as off-limits as one woman can get when Brooks discovers her strong ties to the Preston family. Might I add, the raven-haired beauty keeps the wannabe cowboy on the tips of his Justin-booted toes and throws poor Brooks completely off-kilter.
But does she flip him on his backside? You’ll just have to read on to see.
I’m a horse lover by nature, and so researching training techniques and describing the beautifully groomed and modern but rustic Look Away Ranch was a joy for me. Twinkling lights strung across the perimeter, holly wreaths and poinsettias make for a postcard Christmas at Look Away. What could be better than a cowboy in the making, wild stallions, strategically placed mistletoe, surprise presents under the tree and finding true love where you least expect it?
The Texan’s One-Night Standoff is my gift to you.
Happy holidays and happy reading!
Charlene
The Texan’s One-Night Standoff
Charlene Sands


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHARLENE SANDS is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than forty romance novels. She writes sensual contemporary romances and stories of the Old West. When not writing, Charlene enjoys sunny Pacific beaches, great coffee, reading books from her favorite authors and spending time with her family. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter, write her at PO Box 4883, West Hills, CA 91308, USA, or sign up for her newsletter for fun blogs and ongoing contests at www.charlenesands.com (http://www.charlenesands.com).
To my very talented editor, Charles Griemsman, who is also a wonderful person and someone I call friend. Thanks, Charles, for all you do!
Contents
Cover (#u26b5ac18-d770-506b-8a72-9779eaf31e4b)
Back Cover Text (#uf7e4fb6a-15a4-5bd1-b080-91a7e492b5d6)
Introduction (#uc3ac3b4a-e59c-5f99-81d1-b1a667d9cf68)
Dear Reader (#u578bd633-a3f1-502d-8621-e797b4a43f66)
Title Page (#u717628cd-0ba3-583f-a65c-20504df49c3e)
About the Author (#ud93b8ac5-5f73-5ddb-bb7c-5ab3c034f408)
Dedication (#ue9b3f134-6c61-557b-847e-7b3e6e293a42)
One (#u7215ca23-d188-587e-a07f-d9ab68ac633f)
Two (#u8e42c8bc-021d-5115-9991-5a4d55daeca9)
Three (#uaff14691-1459-5fa5-b2ea-a17f4ab95291)
Four (#u50b43b7d-a4ac-5db3-bc27-c007d9cdd9a3)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#u598f6169-c998-524b-ab91-0259ca9619a1)
Brooks Newport swiveled around on the bar stool at the C’mon Inn, his gaze fastening on the raven-haired Latina beauty bending over a pool table, challenging her opponent with a fiercely competitive glint in her eyes. With blue jeans hugging her hips and a cropped red plaid blouse exposing her olive skin, the lady made his mouth go dry. He wasn’t alone. Every Stetson-wearing Texan in the joint seemed to be watching her, too.
His hand fisting around the bottle, Brooks took a sip of beer, gulping down hard. The woman’s moves around the pool table were as smooth and as polished as his new Justin boots.
“Five ball, corner pocket,” she said, her voice sultry with a side of sass, as if she knew she wasn’t going to miss. Then she took her shot. The cue ball met its mark and sure enough, the five ball rolled right into the pocket.
She straightened to full height, her chest expanding to near button-popping proportions. She couldn’t have been more than five-foot-two, but what she had in that small package was enough to make him break out in a sweat. And that was saying something, since he’d come to Texas for one reason, and one reason only.
To meet his biological father for the first time in his life.
He’d spent the better part of his adulthood trying to find the man who’d abandoned him and his twin brother, Graham in Chicago. Sutton Winchester, his bitter older rival and the man Brooks thought might be his biological father turned out not to be his blood kin after all. Thank God. But Sutton had known the truth of his parenthood all along, and the ailing man, plagued by a bout of conscience—or so Brooks figured—had finally given up the information that led to the name and location of his and Graham’s father.
Brooks would have been speaking with his real father at Look Away Ranch in Cool Springs right now if he hadn’t gotten a bad case of nerves. So much was riding on this. The trek to get to this place in time, to solving the mystery surrounding the birth of the Newport twins, as well as his younger brother Carson, would finally come to fruition.
So, yeah, the powerful CEO of the Newport Corporation from Chicago had turned chicken. Those bawking noises played out in his head. He’d never run scared before and yet, as he was breezing through this dusty town, the Welcome sign and Christmas lights outside the doors of the C’mon Inn had called to him. He’d pulled to a stop and entered the lodge, in need of a fortifying drink and a good night’s rest. He had a lot to think about, and meeting Beau Preston in the light of day seemed a better idea.
He kept his gaze trained on the prettiest thing in the joint. The woman. She wielded the pool cue like a weapon and began wiggling her perfectly trim ass in an effort to make a clean shot. He sipped beer to cool his jets, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away. He had visions of bending over the pool table with her and bringing them both to heaven.
Long strands of her hair hung down to touch her breasts, and as she leaned over even further to line up her shot, those strands caressed green felt. She announced her next shot and bam, the ball banked off the left side and then ricocheted straight into the center pocket.
The whiskered man she was playing against hung his head. “Man, Ruby. You don’t give a guy a chance.”
She chuckled. “That’s the rule I live by, Stan. You know that.”
“But you could miss once in a while. Make it interesting.”
So her name was Ruby. Brooks liked the sound of it, all right. It fit.
He had no business lusting after her. Woman trouble was the last thing he needed. Yet his brain wasn’t doing a good job of convincing his groin to back off.
The game continued until she handed the older guy his vitals on a silver platter. “Sorry, Stan.”
“You’d think after all these years a man could do better against a teeny tiny woman.”
She grinned, showing off a smile that lit the place on fire, then set a sympathetic hand on the man’s shoulder and reached up to kiss his cheek.
The old guy’s face turned beet red. “You know that’s the only reason I endure this torture. For that kiss at the end.”
Her deep, provocative chuckle rumbled in Brooks’s ears. “You’re sweet for saying that, Stan. Now, go on home to Betsy. And kiss your sweet grandson for me.”
Nodding, Stan smiled at her. “Will do. You be good now, you hear?”
“I can always try,” she said, hooking her cue stick on the wall next to a holly wreath.
Stan walked off, and Ruby did this little number with her head that landed all of her thick, silky hair on one shoulder. Brooks’s groin tightened some more. If she was any indication of what Cool Springs was like, he was quickly gaining an affinity for the place.
The woman spotted him. Her deep-set eyes, the color of dark cocoa, met his for a second, and time seemed to stop. Blood rushed through his veins. She blinked a time or two and then let him go, as if she recognized him to be an out-of-towner.
He finished off his beer and rose, tossing some bills onto the bar and giving the barkeep a nod.
“Hey, sweet doll,” a man called out, coming from the darkest depths of the bar to stand in front of her. “How about giving me a go-round?”
Ruby tilted her head up. “No thanks. I’m through for the night.”
“You ain’t through until you’ve seen me wield my stick. It’s impressive.” The big oaf wiggled his brows and crowded her against the pool table.
She rolled her eyes. “Pleeeze.”
“Yeah, babe, that’s exactly what you’ll be crying out once we’re done playing.”
“Sorry, but if that’s your best come-on line, you’re in sad shape, buster.”
She inched her body away, brushing by him, trying not to make contact with the bruiser. But the jerk grabbed her arm from behind and gave a sharp tug. She struggled to wiggle free. “Let go,” she said.
Brooks scanned the room. All eyes were still on Ruby, but no one was making a move. Instead they all had smug looks on their faces. Forget what he’d thought about this town; they were all jerks.
The muscles in his arms bunched and his hands tightened into fists as Brooks stepped toward the two of them. He couldn’t stand by and watch this scene play out, not when the petite pool shark was in trouble. “Get your hands—”
The words weren’t out of his mouth before Ruby elbowed the guy in the gut. “Oof.” He doubled over, clutching his stomach, and cursed her up and down using filthy names.
Crap. Now she was in deep. The guy’s head came up; the unabashed fury in his eyes was aimed her way. Brooks immediately pulled his arm back, fists at the ready, but before he could land a punch, Ruby grabbed the guy’s forearm. The twist of her body came so fast, Brooks blinked, and before he knew it, she’d tossed the big oaf over her shoulder WWF-style and had him down for the count. As in, she’d laid him out flat on his back.
Someone from the bar groused, “No one messes with Ruby unless she wants to be messed with.”
Apparently the oaf hadn’t known that. And neither had Brooks. But hell, the rest of them had known.
She stepped over the man to face Brooks, her gaze on the right hook he’d been ready to land. “Thanks anyway,” she said, out of breath. Apparently she wasn’t Supergirl. The effort had taxed her, and he found himself enjoying how the ebb and flow of her labored breaths stretched the material of her blouse.
He stood there somewhat in awe, a grin spreading his mouth wide. “You didn’t let me do my gladiator routine.”
“Sorry. Maybe next time.” Her lips quirked up.
Behind her, the bartender and another man began dragging the patron away.
“Does that happen often?” he asked her.
“Often enough,” she said. “But not with guys who know me.”
He rubbed at his chin. “No. I wouldn’t imagine.”
He kept his gaze trained on her, astonished at what he’d just witnessed. Her eyes danced in amusement, probably at his befuddled expression. And then someone turned up the volume on the country song playing, and his thoughts ran wild. He was too intrigued to let the night end. This woman wasn’t your typical Texas beauty queen. She had spunk and grit and so much more. Hell, he hadn’t been this turned on in a long, long time.
A country Christmas ballad piped in through the speakers surrounding the room. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.
She smiled sweetly, the kind of smile that suggested softness. And he would’ve believed that if he hadn’t seen her just deck a man. A big man.
Her head tilted to the left, and she gauged him thoughtfully.
He was still standing, so that was a plus. She didn’t find him out of line.
“Sure. I’d like that, Galahad.”
“It’s Brooks.”
“Ruby.”
She led him to the dance floor and he took over from there, placing his hand on the small of her back, enfolding her other hand in his. Small and delicate to big and rough. But it worked. And how, did it work.
He began to move, holding her at arm’s length, breathing her in as they glided across the dance floor.
“I thought you were in trouble back there,” he said.
“I gathered.”
“Are you a black belt or something?”
“Nope, just grew up around men and learned early on how to take care of myself. What about you? Do you have a knight in shining armor complex or something?”
He laughed. “Where I come from, a man doesn’t stand by and watch someone abuse a lady.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Apparently I was the only other guy in the place who didn’t know you could handle yourself.”
She was looking at him now, piercing him with those cocoa eyes and giving him that megawatt smile. “It was sorta sweet, you coming to my rescue.” Was she flirting? Man, oh man. If she was, he wasn’t going to stop her.
“I was watching you, like every other guy at the bar.”
“I like to play pool. I’m good at it,” she said, shrugging a shoulder. “It’s a great way to blow off steam.”
“That’s exactly why I stopped into the bar myself. I needed to do the same.”
“You get brownie points for not saying the obvious.”
“Which is?”
Her lips twitched and she hesitated for a second, as if trying to decide whether to tell him or not. “That you know a better way to blow off steam.”
Her raven brows rose, and he stopped dancing for a second to study her. “You must drive men wild with your mouth.”
She shook her head, grinning. “You’re sinking, Brooks. Going under fast.”
“I was talking about your sass.”
She knew. She was messing with him. “Most men hate it.”
“Not me. It’s refreshing.”
He brought her closer, so that the tips of her breasts grazed his shirt and the scent of her hair tickled his nostrils. She didn’t flip him over her shoulder with that move. She cuddled up closer. “So far, I have two brownie points,” he said. “What can I do to earn another?”
Her gaze drifted to his mouth with pinpoint accuracy. Air left his chest. A deep hunger, like none he’d experienced before, gnawed into his belly.
“You’ll think of something, Galahad.”
* * *
The stranger’s lips touched hers, a brief exploration that warmed up her insides and made her question everything she’d done since setting eyes on this guy. Usually she wasn’t this brazen with men. She didn’t flirt and plant ideas in their heads. But there was something about Brooks that called to her. He had manners. And he knew how to speak to a woman. He seemed familiar and safe in a way, even though they’d never met before. He wasn’t hard on the eyes either, with all that blond hair, thick and wavy and catching the collar of his zillion-dollar shirt. He was as citified as they came, even if he wore slick boots and sported five-o’clock stubble. As soon as she’d spotted him at the bar, she knew he didn’t belong. Not here, in a dusty small town out in the middle of nowhere. Cool Springs wasn’t exactly a mecca of high society, and this guy was that and then some. His coming to her rescue, all granite muscles and fists ready to pummel, was about the nicest thing a man had done for her in a long while.
Trace came to mind, and she immediately washed his image from her head. She wasn’t going to think about her breakup with him. He was six months long gone, and she’d wasted enough time on him.
Instead she wrapped her arms around Brooks’s neck and clung to him, her body sizzling from the heat surrounding them. He began to move again, slower, closer, his scent something expensive and tasteful. Her nerves were raw. Something was happening to her. Something unexpected and thrilling. Her life was too predictable lately, and it was time to change that.
His mouth found hers again, and this time the kiss was hot enough to brand cattle. A fiery mix of passion and lust, making her forget she didn’t kiss strangers like this, on an open dance floor with half the town watching. But Brooks didn’t let up, and she couldn’t pull back or move away. It was that good.
She played with the curling ends of his hair.
He slid his hands lower on her back.
She tucked herself into him.
He groaned and kissed her harder.
The music ended and she hardly noticed.
She stared into his blue eyes.
He gave her a smile.
Her body was shaking.
He was trembling, too.
“What now?” he rasped. “You want another dance?”
She shook her head. “I need air.”
He took her hand and led her off the dance floor and out the door of the C’mon Inn. Clouds shadowed half the full moon, and the bite of December air should’ve cooled her down. But Brooks kept her close to his side, his body shielding her from the cold. Any shivering she was doing was caused by the man beside her and not the dropping winter temperature. He led her around back, where a bench made of iron and wood sat unoccupied near a walled garden. “Would you like to sit?” he asked, and before she could answer, he took a seat and reached for her, giving her the option of where on the bench she wanted to plop down. She chose his lap.
His satisfied smile was her reward, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re beautiful, Ruby. You probably hear that all the time.” His hand grazed her neck as he held her hair back to nibble on her throat. Then his tongue moistened her skin as he laid out a row of sensual kisses there. Her insides went a little squishy from his tender assault. Whatever this was, it was happening fast. His rock-hard erection pressing against her legs told her he was as turned on as she was.
“Not really. I tend to scare men off.” By her own choosing, she warded off men’s advances before giving them half a chance. She’d been waiting around for Trace, hoping he’d come back to her, but that hadn’t happened. And now she found pleasure in this man’s arms. She didn’t know a thing about him, other than her instincts said he was a decent man.
“Little ole you,” he whispered softly before claiming her lips again. The taste of alcohol combined with his confidence was a sweet elixir to her recent loneliness. His mouth pressed hers harder, and the tingles under her skin bumped up another notch. “You didn’t scare me off.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m here with you.”
“I like the sound of that.” The rasp in his voice intensified.
They stopped talking long enough to work up a sweat. Sharp and quick tingles ran up and down her body, and her breaths came in short bursts. She was aware of him at every turn. His well-placed touches made her tremble. His kisses swamped her in heat. Brooks wasn’t far behind. His passion swept her up, and the proof of his desire strained the material of his dark pants. She arched her body in a curving bow, craving more, wanting his hands on her everywhere. Under her cropped shirt, her nipples tightened, and an ache throbbed below her waist.
Finally Brooks touched her breasts, and the beauty of the sensation purred from her lips. “Oh, yes.”
Low guttural sounds surfaced from his chest, groans of pleasure and want as his hands moved over her body, palms wide, so he could grasp every inch of her. He flattened her erect nipples, followed the curve of her torso and dipped down lower to her hips. He ran his hands along her legs, up and down her thighs, and from under her jeans she felt the burn on her skin.
Laughter coming from patrons leaving the inn rang in her ears.
Brooks stopped and listened.
The sounds became softer and eventually ceased. Thank goodness those people weren’t coming back here.
“Ruby, honey. I’m not one for public groping.” He hesitated a second. “I have a room.”
She bit down on her lower lip, his taste lingering on her mouth. It helped her make the decision. She wasn’t ready for this to end. “Take me there.”
* * *
Ruby drove him wild and crazy with want. Yeah, he’d been without a woman for several months, but this woman was more than he’d ever dreamed of. This woman, he couldn’t have even imagined. She was the hottest female he’d met in his life, and she was exactly what he needed to...ah, hell, blow off steam. Her flipping that oaf on his back had been just the beginning. From then on, every word that came out of her mouth, every tempting gesture and coy smile, had been perfect. Brooks had it bad for her. Suggesting taking her to his room had been brash. Insane, really, since he’d known her less than an hour.
No one messes with Ruby unless she wants to be messed with.
Apparently he’d made the grade. ’Cause he was messing with her, and had her full approval.
He scooped her up from the bench, and she automatically wound her arms around his neck as he climbed the outside staircase that led to his room. She was petite and lightweight, and it wasn’t a struggle to carry her up the stairs in his arms. Darkness concealed them for most of the way. Once he slid the key card into the lock and shoved the door open with a hip, he moved inside and set her on her feet. She still clung to him.
Lord have mercy.
They were finally alone. Brooks’s deep sense of decorum kicked in big time. He knew what he was dealing with. She wasn’t some floozy who staked men out in a bar. She wasn’t an easy piece who’d consider him another conquest. He could tell that from the warm glow in her eyes now, from the way all the men at the bar respected her, from the way she’d chosen him and not the other way around. For all those reasons, he wasn’t going to take advantage of the situation.
He brushed a kiss to her lips. “Welcome.”
As antiquated as the inn was, at least the place was clean. There was no flat-screen television on the wall, no wet bar or cushy king-size bed for added luxury. Nor was there a spacious wardrobe closet or a sunken bathtub or any of the things Brooks was accustomed to. Ruby strolled over to peer out the back window. From where he stood, the view was hardly noteworthy or attractive: just a vast amount of unincorporated land. The lack of illumination was actually a plus since there was nothing to see out there. “I’ve never been inside one of these rooms,” she said.
“I figured.”
She whirled around. “You think you’ve got my number, Galahad?”
“Maybe. I know you don’t do this.”
Her bright laughter ended with an unfeminine snort. “You’d like to believe that, right?”
“I do believe it. So, why me?”
She glanced out the window again, gazing into the darkness. “Maybe I like you. Maybe it’s because you came to my rescue—”
“Which you didn’t need.”
She continued, “You came to my rescue with no thought of the danger to your own hide.”
He took a step toward her. “Are you saying I couldn’t take that guy?”
“Hold on to your ego. I’m only saying that you’re the one I want to be with tonight. Can’t we leave it at that?”
He nodded and inclined his head toward the door. “We were about to combust out there. That’s never happened to me before.”
“So, you’re saying you don’t like losing control and decided to slow down the pace?”
“What I’m saying is, you deserve better than that.”
She smiled, and the natural sway of her body as she walked toward him fueled his juices. “There, you see? Things like that are exactly what a girl wants to hear. So, what did you have in mind?”
Her scent filled him up, and the shimmering sheet of dark, straight hair falling off her shoulders gave him pause—was he crazy to slow things down?
Her eyes were on him, warm and soft and patient.
“A drink, for starters?”
Another survey of the room had her gaze landing on the amber bottle of whiskey he’d brought from Chicago sitting on the bedside table. “Okay.”
He grabbed two tumblers and poured the whiskey. The very best stuff. He’d figured he would need some fortification before meeting his biological father, but he’d never thought he would entertain a lady with it.
Standing before her, he offered her a glass. “Here you go.”
She eyed the golden liquid. “Thanks. What should we drink to?”
“To unexpected meetings?”
She smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t say ‘to new beginnings.’”
He wouldn’t. He wasn’t in the market for a lover or a girlfriend. And apparently, Miss Ruby—he didn’t know her last name—wasn’t looking for a relationship, either. She’d dropped enough hints about that tonight. Somebody must’ve hurt her along the way, but Brooks couldn’t delve too deeply into her past. He wouldn’t want anyone prying into his, and tonight was all about the present, not the past or the future.
He touched his glass to hers, and a definitive clink sounded in the room. “To unexpected pleasant meetings.”
She gave him a brief nod and then took a sip, taking time to relish the taste before swallowing. “This is pretty amazing stuff. It surely didn’t come out of any minibar.”
He was surprised she would notice the quality. “Are you a whiskey expert?”
“Let’s just say I know good whiskey when I taste it.”
She took a seat on the bed and continued to sip. He sat beside her, enjoying her quiet company. His heart was still racing, but he was glad he’d toned things down some. She wasn’t a woman to be rushed. And he wanted to savor her tonight, in the same way she was savoring her whiskey.
“Tell me,” she said, “aren’t you afraid that I’ll come to my senses and walk out on you?”
“I don’t think you’re a flight risk, Ruby. So, no. But if you think better of this, I would respect your decision. When I make love to you, I want you to be sure and all in.”
She smiled, and her eyes drifted down to the amber liquid in her glass. “You don’t mince words.”
“You don’t, either.”
She nodded, and her soft gaze met his stare. He reached out to touch her face with a sole finger to her cheek. She gasped, and a warm light flickered in her eyes.
“What do you want, Ruby?”
“Just a night,” she whispered, breathy and guileless. “With you.”
He sensed she needed it as much as he did. To have one night with her before his life would change forever.
Taking the glass from her and setting both of their drinks down on the nightstand, he cupped her face with his hands and gazed into her eyes. “One night, then.”
“Yes,” she said. “One night.”
And then he pulled her up to a standing position so they were toe-to-toe, her face lifting to his. He peered into warm, dark eyes giving him approval and then slowly lowered his head, his mouth laying claim to hers.
Their night together was just beginning.
Two (#u598f6169-c998-524b-ab91-0259ca9619a1)
Brooks’s touch was like a jolt of electricity running the course of her body. One touch, one simple finger to her cheek, one slight meshing of his whiskey-flavored lips with hers, was giving her amnesia about the other men in her life. Men who’d trampled on her heart. Men like Trace, who’d taken from her and hadn’t given back. Trace, the man she’d waited for all these months. She squeezed that notion from her mind.
Her time to wait was over.
Brooks’s giving and patient mouth didn’t demand. Instead, he encouraged her to partake and enjoy. She liked that about this man. He wasn’t a player of women. No, her gladiator and presumptive keeper of her virtue was a man of honor. He didn’t take. He gave. And that’s exactly why she’d decided to come to his room tonight.
She placed her trust in him.
He wasn’t asking her to bare her soul. But she would bare her body. For him.
Her fingers nimbly played with the tiny white buttons on her blouse until the material slipped from her shoulders, trapping her arms. Cool night air grazed her exposed skin.
Brooks’s sharp intake of breath reached her ears. “You’re unbelievably beautiful.”
He worked the sleeves of her blouse down her arms until they gathered at her wrists. He held her there, mercilessly tugging her closer until her bra brushed his torso. “Yeah, I like you in red.” He stroked her hair and then snapped the silky strap of her bra.
“It’s my color,” she whispered, and he smiled.
“I won’t disagree.”
He nipped at her lips then, several times, until his mouth claimed hers again. The kiss swept her into another world, where the only thing that mattered, all that she felt, was the pleasure he was giving. His tongue plunged in and met hers in a sparring match that ignited a fiery inferno within her. Whimpering, she ached for his touch. Finally his fingers dipped inside her bra to caress her nipples. Everything unfolded from there—the pleasure too great, the sighs too loud, the hunger too strong.
He worked magic with his mouth while his hands found the fastener of her bra. Within seconds, and none too soon, she was free of her blouse and restraints. Her breasts spilled out into his awaiting hands, and the small ache at her core began to pulse as he touched, fondled and caressed her. She was pinned to the spot, unwilling to move, unwilling to take a step, his invisible hold on her body too strong. Her nipples stood erect and tightened to pebble hardness. Aching for more, she leaned way back and was granted the very tip of his tongue dampening her with moisture.
“Oh, so good, Brooks.”
His outstretched palms bracing the small of her back, he answered only with a low guttural groan.
And once he was through ravaging her, he brought her up to eye level, drinking her in from top to bottom. Shaking his head, he fixed his gaze on the full measure of her breasts. She had a large bust for a petite woman and this time she didn’t mind having a man’s eyes transfixed on her. “I can’t believe you,” he muttered. “You’re not real.”
The compliment went straight to her head.
Brooks was a city dude, a man who didn’t fit in her world, yet here she was, nearly naked with him and enjoying every sensual second of it.
“I’m very real,” she breathed, closing the gap between them and lacing her arms around his neck. His erection stood like a stout monument, and there was no missing it. “And I want more.”
“Whatever the lady wants,” he said, running his hands up and down the sides of her body, his fingertips grazing the sides of her breasts. Another round of heat pinged her as anticipation grew.
He turned her around, came up behind her and slowly grazed the waistband of her jeans with his hands. His powerful arms locked her in, and his mouth was doing a number on her throat while his long fingers nudged her sweet spot. She murmured her approval, and lights flashed before her eyes. He stroked between her thighs, and a cry ripped from her throat. And then he was pulling the zipper of her jeans down, slowly, torturously, his erection behind her, a thrilling reminder of what was to come.
“Kick off your boots,” he whispered in her ear.
Goose bumps erupted on her arms.
Her legs were a mass of jelly.
She kicked her boots off obediently, and then his index fingers were inside her waistband, gently lowering the jeans down her legs. She stepped out of them easily. “Red lace panties,” he murmured appreciatively. He cupped one cheek, fitting her left buttock in his palm. He stroked her, smoothing his hand up and over, up and over. “Oh, man,” he muttered, the heat of his body bathing her.
From where she stood with her back against his chest, she felt his body shudder. Quickly she turned around. The room was dimly lit with a sole lamp, and they were cast in shadow, but there was enough light to see a deep, burning hunger in his eyes.
“Lie down on the bed,” he told her.
Her heart was pounding like a drum, beating hard, beating fast. He was a man who took control. She wasn’t one to obey so easily, but there was a look in his eyes telling her to trust him. She did as she was told and lay on the queen bed, naked but for the panties she wore.
His gaze roamed over her body, slowly, the gleam in his eyes filled with promise.
“Galahad?”
“Hmm?”
“Having second thoughts?”
He laughed at her, giving his head a shake. “Are you kidding me? You have no idea...”
“What?”
“...how turned on I am. I’m trying to keep from jumping your bones, Ruby.”
She glanced at the flagpole erection bulging in his pants. “What if I want you to jump my bones? Isn’t that why we’re here?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, but... I want this night to last.”
She rolled to the side and leaned on her elbow. His eyes sought the spill of her hair touching her breasts. “Come to bed, Brooks. I’m a big girl. I can take whatever you have in mind.”
“Doubtful, honey. What I’m thinking...”
She grabbed his hand and tugged. He landed on his butt in an upright position on the bed. “Do it, Brooks. But first take off your clothes.”
He grinned. “How did I get so lucky?”
“Judging by the cut of your cloth, you were probably born lucky.” She was guessing.
He grunted. And that was all the reply he gave her.
Sitting up on her knees, she helped him lift his shirt over his head and pull off his boots between kisses. Her hands sought his chest, all powerful and rippled with muscle, smooth and hard, like the planes of a solid board. She reveled in touching him, her fingertips toying with his flattened nipples.
That move landed her on her back, her arms locked by one strong hand above her head. “Two can tease,” he said.
And then he was pulling her panties down and touching her where she’d prayed he’d touch. Her body instantly responded, and soft moans rose from her throat. She undulated with each stroke of his hand, each caress of a fingertip. He kept her pinned down, covering her with his body, the soft flesh of his palm applying pressure at the apex of her thighs.
“I’m... I’m going to lose it,” she moaned, the pleasure unbearable.
“Don’t fight it, honey,” he rasped.
And then she shattered, and spasms wracked her lower body in beautiful jolts that electrified her body. Her hips were arched, and she didn’t remember how they got that way. Slowly she lowered herself and finally opened her eyes to swim in Brooks’s deep blue gaze. He watched her carefully, a satisfied smile on his lips as he unzipped his pants and removed them.
“Your turn,” she said.
He shook his head. “Our turn.”
And then he fitted a condom on his erection and moved back over her.
His hands molded her breasts. His kiss went deep, his tongue delicious and probing. “Tell me when you’re ready, sweetheart,” he murmured before kissing her again.
She ran her hands through his longish blond hair, her fingers curling around the locks at the back of his neck. Then her gaze drifted to his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be more ready.”
He made a caveman sound, raw and brash, and then braced her in a protective way to roll them over on the bed. She found herself on top of him. “Set the pace, Ruby. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She bit the corner of her lip. Sure, she was petite, but Galahad worried that he was too big for her small frame. She could actually fall for a guy like this. She gave him a nod and straddled his thighs. “You won’t hurt me,” she said, fitting herself over his shaft, tossing her head back and shuddering from the feel of him inside her.
Then she began to move.
* * *
Spooned against Brooks’s large frame, with his arm resting possessively around her torso, Ruby slowly opened her eyes. It was past midnight and she’d promised Brooks she’d stay the night with him. She didn’t doubt her decision but instead smiled as he snuggled her closer and brought his hand to rest just under her breast.
“Are you awake?” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck.
“Just,” she answered. “I dozed.”
“Me, too. I haven’t been this relaxed in a long time.”
“Had a lot on your mind lately?” she murmured.
“You have no idea. But I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
His hand made lazy circles around her breast, his fingers feathery light over her nipple. Her body heated instantly. He had the ability to make her yearn, and the longing was potent. His leg moved over both of hers, and she was locked to him now, the soft flesh of her thighs meeting with legs of steel.
“I don’t want to talk at all,” he said, fisting her hair and planting kisses at the back of her neck. “Do you?”
“No.” Oh God, what he was doing to her? Her body flamed. She was going up in smoke. “Talking is overrated. Not when we could be doing better things.”
Ruby had never given herself so freely before. She’d never really been the bad girl, and everyone who knew her well knew that for a fact. She’d had only three relationships in her twenty-six years, and only the last one had really meant anything to her. The last one had hurt her.
She’d been in love.
Or so she’d thought.
But tonight with Brooks was different. It was all about having a man appreciate her. Give to her. Excite her and make her feel like a woman.
He rolled over on top of her, careful of her small frame, his hands bracing the bed on both sides of her head. She gazed into his deep blue eyes. “I want you again, Ruby.”
Ruby smiled. “I want you, too.”
He nodded and let go of a deep breath. “I was praying you’d say that, honey.”
He bent his head and touched his mouth to hers. Already the taste of him, the firmness of his lips, seemed familiar and welcome. She’d never see him again. She wasn’t in the market for a man. But Brooks would leave her with a good memory.
And then his mouth moved from her lips down her chest toward her navel, streaming kisses along the way. Her hips lifted; she was eager and willing, waiting. She didn’t have to wait long. He touched his tongue to her center and suckled her sweetest spot. She whimpered and moved wildly as his mouth performed magic. It was a torturous, beautiful few minutes of pleasure. And when she was on the brink, ready for a powerful release, he rose over her and joined their bodies. Oh...it was bliss, the best of the best as he moved inside her. And then, moments later, his eyes darkened, his body stiffened and every sensation between them intensified. He moaned her name, an utterance of pleasured pain, and then he broke apart at the seams. It was enough to turn her inside out, and she, too, shuddered with an incredible release.
“Wow,” she said once her breathing returned to normal.
“Yeah, wow,” he said, keeping her close. He kissed her forehead, stroked her hair and tucked her body into his.
She closed her eyes and waited for the exquisite hum of her body to ease her into sleep.
* * *
Brooks tiptoed back into the room, holding two cups of coffee and a white paper bag filled with muffins and buttered biscuits from the café at the inn. There wasn’t a croissant to be had in this hokey Texas town, and he liked that about this place. Clean, simple and... He glanced at Ruby asleep in the bed, her hair smooth black granite against the pillow. Beautiful. Yep, Cool Springs left him with a good impression.
The mattress groaned as he sat down.
“Is that coffee I smell?” a soft, sultry voice whispered from the other end of the bed.
“Can’t fool you,” he said, turning to find Ruby coming to a sitting position. “Leaded and dark as mud.” Apparently that’s how they made coffee in Texas. He showed her the two cups.
“I think I love you,” she said, reaching for one. She’d worn one of his shirts to bed. The thing hung down to her knees and covered most of her up, but she still looked sexy as sin.
Her lips pursed as she blew on the rising steam.
He shook his head and talked down his lust. “Got biscuits, too, all buttered up, with honey.”
“I adore you even more,” she said. He handed her one and she wasted no time. She took a big bite, chewed with gusto and then took another bite.
“You’ve got an appetite.”
“I had a busy day and night.”
He joined in, sipping coffee and digging into the biscuits. “Maybe I should’ve taken you out for a nice big breakfast.”
She shook her head. “This is perfect,” she said, reaching for the bag from his hand. “What kind of muffins did you get?”
“Banana and blueberry. So, you wouldn’t want to go out for breakfast with me?”
She chose blueberry. “It’s nothing personal, but showing up somewhere public at this hour will cause talk. You know what they say about small towns. All of it is true. And you don’t owe me anything, but I appreciate your gallantry.”
“Just call me Galahad.”
“I do.” She laughed before putting her teeth into the muffin.
He laughed, too, and was sorry he had to leave Ruby behind. She wasn’t like most females he’d met, and he had a feeling she wasn’t going to put up a fuss about saying goodbye.
He wasn’t entirely sure he liked that idea, but he had a new life waiting for him. His emotions were keyed up, and he was too damn confused to add a woman to the mix.
They drank coffee and chatted quietly about nothing in particular. And after they’d taken their last sips, Brooks rose from the bed and began packing his belongings. “Sorry, but I have to hit the road soon. I have an important meeting.”
Ruby rose from the bed and padded over to him. “Brooks,” she said.
“Hmm?”
She stood before him, her expression unreadable. “Don’t forget your shirt.”
Slowly she began undoing the buttons, her nimble fingers working one after another. Once done, she shrugged out of the shirt, and it fell easily to her feet. His gaze fastened on a beautiful body in red lace. “Ruby,” he said, sucking in oxygen and pulling her into his arms, her skin smooth and her muscles toned under his fingertips. “I wish I could postpone my meeting.”
“No problem.” Her eyes were soft and warm. He was never going to forget that particular deep cocoa color. Who was he kidding? He was never going to forget her. That was for damn sure. “I’ve got a busy day myself. I’ll take a shower. You’ll probably be gone by the time I get out.”
Like a fool, he nodded. That was the plan. He had to leave. Now.
He claimed her lips one last time, putting all of himself into that kiss. Then, mustering every ounce of his willpower, he turned away from her. But a thought struck, and he reached into his pocket to pull out a business card. “In case,” he said with a lift of his shoulder, “I don’t know, if you want to talk. Or need me or something.” He set the card on the bedside table.
By the time he turned back around, she had disappeared into the bathroom.
“Goodbye, Brooks,” she said just as the door was closing.
The lock clicked.
He closed his eyes. It was time to get on with the rest of his life.
Three (#u598f6169-c998-524b-ab91-0259ca9619a1)
Brooks pulled into the gates of Look Away Ranch, his gaze drawn to the size and scope of Beau Preston’s horse farm. The animals grazing freely in white-fenced meadowlands had a majestic presence. They were tall, their coats gleaming in browns and blacks and golds. Brooks didn’t know much about horses, but even an amateur could tell by looking at them that these stallions, mares and geldings were top-notch.
He smiled at the notion that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. If what he’d been told by Roman Slater, the PI he’d hired to find his biological father, was true, then Brooks’s drive to succeed above all else must’ve been in his blood. Because Look Away Ranch had all the makings of hard-earned success, much like his very own Newport Corporation.
He, Graham and Carson had worked their asses off for years in order to create one of the leading real estate and land development companies in the country. He was proud of what they’d accomplished, coming up the real estate ranks in Chicago and becoming genuine competitors of Sutton Winchester’s Elite Industries. Winchester was their biggest rival both professionally and privately. And Brooks had done his very best to take the ruthless older man down, more for personal reasons than professional.
For a time, Brooks had believed that the now ailing Sutton fathered him and his twin brother Graham. The knowledge only fueled his desire to destroy the man he believed abandoned his mother in her time of need, when she was pregnant. It turned out none of that was true. But paternity tests had revealed that his baby brother, Carson, was indeed Sutton Winchester’s biological child. Sutton and his late mother, Cynthia, had history together. She’d been his secretary once, and they’d had a love affair.
He hoped his true father, Beau, would fill in the rest of the blanks. After years of wondering and months now of tracking the man down, Brooks was ready to meet the man who’d fathered him.
He pulled up into the portico-covered drive that circled the stately ranch house and killed the engine. A man was waiting on the steps. Brooks’s first glimpse was of a tall rancher, his hair once blond and now dusted with silver, dressed in crisp jeans and a snap-down Western shirt. He immediately approached, marching down the steps, his gait extremely similar to his twin brother’s and probably Brooks’s as well. Warmth swamped his chest.
He was out of the car quickly, walking toward the man whose blood flowed through his veins. They came face-to-face, and Brooks took in the blue eyes, the firm jaw and the hint of a wicked smile bracing the man’s mouth. “Beau?”
Tears welled in the man’s eyes. His lips quivered and he nodded. “Yes, son. I’m Beau Preston. I’m your father.”
His father’s legs wobbled, and Brooks grabbed his shoulders to steady him. As emotion rocked him, Brooks’s own legs went numb, too. Then his father broke down, sobbing quietly and taking Brooks into his big, sturdy arms as he would a little boy. “Welcome, son. Welcome. I’ve been searching for you for a long time.”
A few seconds later, Beau backed away, wiping at his tears. “I’m sorry. I’m just so happy, boy. Come inside. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Yes, I’d like that,” Brooks said.
They walked shoulder to shoulder into the house.
“Forgive me for not showing you around just yet,” Beau said.
“I understand. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
But Brooks noticed things about the rooms he walked through, the sturdy, steady surroundings, dark wood floors polished to a mirror shine, bulky wood beams above and wide-paned windows letting the outside in. The wood tones were brightened by the red blooms of poinsettia plants placed in several of the rooms, and his nostrils filled with the holiday scent of pine.
His father led him into the great room, which contained a giant flat-screen television, a corner wet bar, and tan and black leather couches. He got the feeling this was his father’s comfort zone, the room he relaxed in after a long, grueling day. “Have a seat,” the older man said. “Can I offer you coffee or iced tea? Orange juice?”
Brooks had had morning coffee with Ruby. A slice of regret barreled through him that he’d never see her again. He sat down on a tan sofa. “No thanks. I’m fine.”
“You found the place okay?” His father took a seat facing him, his gaze latching onto Brooks and gleaming as bright as morning sunshine. All of Brooks’s apprehension over this meeting vanished. Beau was as glad they’d found each other as he was.
“Yep, didn’t have any trouble finding Look Away Ranch. It’s pretty amazing, I have to say.”
“What’s amazing is that you’re finally here. And look at you, boy. You’re the spitting image of me when I was your age.”
“There are two of us, you know. But Graham wanted to lay back and let me make the first contact with you. We didn’t want to overwhelm you and, well...we have questions. He thought it’d be easier for you and me to speak privately before he joins us, since I was the one hell-bent on finding you.”
His father rubbed at the back of his neck, a pained look entering his eyes. “I have to explain. I didn’t know about you boys in the beginning. I didn’t know your mama, Mary Jo, was carrying my babies when she ran away from Cool Springs. And once I started receiving anonymous notes and photos, I wasn’t sure any of it was true, but as the photos kept coming, I saw the resemblance. It was unmistakable, and I moved heaven and earth to find Mary Jo. To find you boys.”
“It’s weird to hear you call my mother Mary Jo. As far as we knew, Mom’s name was Cynthia Newport.”
He shrugged a shoulder and got a faraway look in his eyes. “Mary Jo and I were desperately in love. She must’ve been scared out of her mind to run from me the way she did. That son of a bitch father of hers...” He paused to gauge Brooks’s reaction. “Sorry, I forget he’s your grandfather. But he was mean to the bone. Mary Jo was convinced if he found out she was seeing me, he’d kill both of us. I tried like the dickens to calm her down and tell her I’d protect her, but she must’ve panicked when she found out she was pregnant. God, I keep thinking how desperate she must’ve been back then. Alone in the world and carrying twins, no less. She wouldn’t have run off if she wasn’t terribly frightened of the consequences. That’s all I can figure. She must’ve thought her daddy would beat the stuffing out of her, and harm her babies, if he ever found out the truth.
“I didn’t know she’d changed her name and started a new life. I surely didn’t know she was with child. But I want you to know, to be clear, I searched high and low for her in those early days. Trouble was, I was searching for Mary Jo Turner, not this...this Cynthia Newport person.”
“I understand. I don’t fault you for any of this. I’ve, uh, well, I’m just now coming to terms with all of this myself. I must admit, I was a bit obsessed with finding you.”
“I’m glad you never let up, son.”
Brooks gave him a nod. “Mom, she was a survivor. She did whatever it took to keep me and my brothers safe and cared for. She hid so many things from us during our lives. But Graham and I and our younger brother, Carson, who has a different father, don’t blame her for any of it. We had a good life, living on the outskirts of Chicago with our Grandma Gerty. That woman befriended Mom when she was at a low point, and she took all of us in. She let us live with her in a modest home in a nice neighborhood, and she helped get us through school. We were a family in all respects. My brothers and I always looked upon her and loved her as if she was our real grandmother. I have a sneaking suspicion she was the one sending those updates and photos to you.”
“Sounds like a wonderful woman.” Beau sighed as he leaned farther back in his seat. “If she was the one, then I owe her a great debt. I’d long believed that your mother was gone to me forever, but just knowing you boys were out there somewhere gave me hope. I wish like hell Gerty would’ve just told me where to find you, but your mama probably held her to a promise to keep the secret.”
“Grandma Gerty died about ten years ago.”
“That’s about when the updates stopped coming. It makes sense,” his father said, “as much as any of this makes sense.” He laughed with no real amusement.
“Grandma Gerty had a keen sense of duty. She must’ve believed in her heart she was doing the right thing. She only wanted what was best for my mom.”
“I’m sorry Mary Jo isn’t with us anymore. We were so young when we were in love, and...well, I have fond memories of her. Such a tragedy, the way she died.”
“The aneurism took us all by shock. Mom was pretty healthy all of her life, and to lose her that way, after all she’d been through...well, it wasn’t fair.” Brooks took a second to breathe in and out slowly. After composing himself he added, “I miss her like crazy.”
“I bet you do. The Mary Jo I remember was worthy of your love. I have no doubt she was a wonderful mother.”
“Do you know what ever happened to my grandfather?”
“Still kicking. The mean ones don’t die young. He’s in a nursing home for dementia patients and being cared for by the state of Texas. I’m sorry, son. I know he’s your relation, but if you knew how he treated your mama, you wouldn’t give him a second of thought.”
Brooks closed his eyes. This part was hardest to hear. His mother had never mentioned her abuse to him or any of her children. She’d shielded them all from hurt and negativity and made their lives as pleasant and as full of love as she possibly could. She’d come to Chicago hell-bent on changing her circumstances, but those memories of her broken youth must’ve haunted her. To think of her as that young girl who’d been treated so poorly by the one person who should’ve been loving and protecting her burned Brooks like a hot brand. “I suppose I should visit him.”
“You can see him, son. But I’m told he’s lost his mind. Doesn’t recognize anyone anymore.”
Brooks nodded. Another piece of his family lost to him. But perhaps in this case it was for the best that his grandfather wouldn’t know him. “I’ll deal with him in my own way at some point.”
“I’m glad you agreed to stay on at the ranch awhile. You’re welcome at the house. It’s big enough and always open to you. But when we spoke on the phone, you seemed to like the idea of staying at the cabin right on our property and...well, I think it’s a good choice. You can take things at your own pace without getting overwhelmed.” His father grinned and gave his head a prideful tilt. “Course, here I am talking about you getting overwhelmed when you’re the owner of a big corporation and all.”
Brooks grinned. That apple not falling far from the tree again. “And here you are with this very prosperous horse farm in Texas. You have a great reputation for honesty and quality. Look Away Ranch is top-notch.” Aside from having Beau Preston investigated by Slater, Brooks had Googled him and found nothing lacking.
“It’s good to hear you say that. Look Away has been a joy in my life. I lost my wife some years ago, and this place along with my sons helped me get through it. You’ll meet your half brothers soon.”
“I’ll look forward to that. And I’m sorry to hear about you losing your wife.”
“Yeah, it was a tough one. I think you would’ve liked her. I know Mary Jo would’ve approved. My Tanya was a good woman. She filled the hole inside me after losing your mama.”
“I wish I could’ve known her, Beau.”
His eyes snapped up. “Son, I’d appreciate it if you called me Dad.”
Dad? A swell of warmth lodged deep in his heart. He’d never had the privilege of calling any man that. While growing up, he, Carson and Graham had always been the boys without a father. Grandma Gerty had made up for it in many ways, her brightness and light shining over them, but deep down Brooks had wanted better answers from his mother about his father’s absence in their lives. “You’re better off not knowing,” she’d say, cutting off his further questions.
Brooks gave Beau a smile. “All right, Dad. I’m happy to call you that after all these years.”
His father’s eyes lit up. “And I’m happy to hear it, son. Would you like to get settled in? I can drive you to the cabin. It’s barely more than a stone’s throw from here, only a quarter mile into the property.”
“Yeah, that’s sounds good.”
“Fine, and before we do, I’ll give you the grand tour of the house. Tanya did all the decorating and she loved the holidays, so we’ve kept up the tradition of putting out all her favorite things. We start early in December, and it takes us a while to bring the trees in and get the house fully decorated in time for our annual Look Away Ranch Christmas shindig. C’mon, I’ll show you around now.”
“Thanks. I’ve got no doubt I’m going to like your place.”
“I hope so, son.”
* * *
After his father left him at the cabin, a rustic, wood-beamed, fully state-of-the-art three-bedroom dwelling that would sell for a million bucks in the suburbs of Chicago, Brooks walked his luggage into the master suite and began putting away his belongings in a dark oak dresser. Lifting out the shirt Ruby had worn just this morning, Brooks brought the collar to his nose and breathed in. The shirt smelled of her still, a wildly exotic scent that had lured him into his best fantasy to date.
He’d hold on to that memory for a long time, but now he was about to make new ones with his father and his family. Brooks walked the rooms, getting familiar with his new home—for the next few weeks, anyway—and found he was antsy to learn more, to see more.
He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, noting that Beau Preston didn’t do things halfway. The fridge was filled with everything Brooks might possibly need during his stay here. If Beau wanted him to feel welcome, he’d succeeded.
Locking the cabin door with the key his dad had given him, he headed toward the stables to explore. What he knew about horses and ranching could fit in his right hand, and it was about time to change that. Brooks didn’t want to admit to his father he’d seen the saddle side of a horse only once or twice. What did a city kid from Chicago know about riding?
Not much.
Huddled in a windbreaker jacket fit for a crisp December day in Texas, his boots kicking up dust, he came upon a set of corrals first. Beautiful animals frolicked, their groomed manes gently bouncing off their shoulders as they played a game of equine tag. They nipped at each other, teased and snorted and then stormed off, only to return to play again. They were beauties. His father’s horses.
The land behind the corrals was rich with tall grazing grass, strong oaks and mesquite trees dotting the squat hills. It was unfamiliar territory and remote, uniquely different from what Brooks had ever known.
He ducked into one of the stables. Shadows split the sunshine inside, and a long row of stalls on either side led to a tack room. The stable was empty but for a dozen or so horses. Beau had told him to check out Misty, an eight-year-old mare with a sweet nature. He spotted her quickly, a golden palomino with blond locks, not too different in color from his own.
“Hey, girl, are you and I going to get along?” The horse’s ears perked up, and she sauntered over to hang her head over the split door. “That’s a girl.” He stroked the horse’s nose and looked into her big brown eyes. “Hang on a sec,” he said and walked over to the tack area. The place smelled of leather and dust, but it was about as clean and tidy as a five-star hotel.
That told him something about his father.
“Can I help you?” A man walked out of the tack room and eyed him cautiously. “I’m Sam Braddox, the foreman.”
Brooks put out his hand. “I’m Brooks Newport. Nice to meet you.”
The man’s expression changed to a quick smile. “You’re one of Beau’s boys.”
“Yes, I am. I just got here a little while ago.”
“Well, welcome. I see the resemblance. You have your daddy’s eyes. And Beau only just this morning filled the crew in on the news you’d be arriving.”
“Thanks. I’m... I’m just trying to get acquainted with the place. Learn a little about horses.” He scratched his head and then shrugged. “I’m no horseman, but Beau wants to take me out riding one day.”
Sam studied him. “How about a quick lesson?”
“Sure.”
“C’mon. I’ll show you how to saddle up.” He led Misty out of her stall and into an open area.
“Misty’s a fine girl. She’s sweet, but she can get testy if you don’t show her who’s boss from the get-go.”
“Okay.”
The foreman grabbed a worked-in saddle and horse blanket and walked over to Brooks. “Here we go.”
Sam tossed the blanket over the horse just as one of the crew dashed in. “Hey, Boss. Looks like Candy is ready to foal. She’s having a struggle. Brian sent me to get you.”
“Okay.” Sam sighed. “I’ll be right there.” He gave Brooks a glance and set the saddle on the ground. “Sorry about this. Candy has had a hard pregnancy. I’d better get right to it.”
“No problem at all. I’ll see you later, Sam.”
“You okay here?”
“I’m gonna try my hand at it. I’ll Google how to saddle a horse.”
Sam gave him a queer look. “All right.” Then he strode out like his pants were on fire.
“How hard can this be?” Brooks said to himself.
He fixed the blanket over the horse’s shoulders, sheepskin side down, and then lifted the saddle. The darn thing weighed at least fifty pounds. He set it onto the horse and grabbed the cinch from underneath the horse’s belly.
“You’re doing it all wrong.” The female voice stopped him short. What in hell? He whipped around, uneasy about where his thoughts were heading. Sure enough, there was Ruby of his fantasies coming forward. His mouth could’ve dropped open, but he kept his teeth clamped as he tried to make sense of it. He’d just left Ruby a few hours ago, and now here she was in the flesh, appearing unfazed at seeing him again. He, for sure, wasn’t unaffected.
“Ruby?”
“Hello, Brooks.”
She practically ignored him as she went about removing the saddle like a pro—a saddle that weighed probably half her body weight—and shoving it into his arms. “The blanket has to be even on both sides. You put it on closer to Misty’s shoulders and then slide it into the natural channel of her body. Make sure it’s not too far down on her hips, either. It’s the best protection the horse has for—”
“Ruby?” He took hold of her arm gently.
She didn’t budge, didn’t face him. “I work here. I’m Look Away Ranch’s head wrangler and horse trainer.”
As if that explained it all. “Did you know who I was last night?”
Her eyes snapped up. “God, no.” She shook her head, and the sheet of beautiful raven hair shimmered. “Beau told us about you only this morning. He wanted to make sure you were really coming before he shared his news. Welcome to the family, Brooks.”
His heart just about stopped. “The family?”
She nodded. “Beau’s like a father to me.”
Brooks released the breath he’d been holding. She’d had him scared for a second that they could be related in some way. “Like a father? What does that mean?”
“My father worked for Beau all of his life, until he died ten years ago. I was sixteen at the time. It was hard on me. I, uh...it almost broke me. My dad was special to me. We both loved horses, the land and everything about Look Away, so when he passed, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. But Beau and his boys were right by my side the entire time. Beau never let a day go by without letting me know I was welcome and wanted here. He took me in and I worked at Look Away, making my way up to head wrangler.”
“You live here?”
“I have an apartment in town, but often I stay in the old groundskeeper’s cottage, especially during the holidays. It’s where my dad lived out the last years of his life. It’s home to me, too, and Beau’s family is now my family.”
Brooks nodded at this new wrinkle in his life. “What about your mother?”
“Mom died when I was very young. I don’t remember too much about her.”
“I’m sorry.” He put his hands on his hips. “So, what do we do now?”
“Now?” Her brows knit together. “What do you mean?”
“About us?”
Her olive skin turned bright pink, and her embarrassment surprised him. The Ruby he’d met yesterday had been fearless and uninhibited. “Oh, that. Well, it’d be best if we didn’t discuss what happened between us last night. Beau wouldn’t approve. It was really nice, Brooks. But not to be repeated.”
“I see.”
“Glad you do,” she said, dismissing the subject with a flip of her hair. “You want to learn how to saddle this horse correctly?”
Dumbfounded, he began nodding, not so much because he gave a damn about saddling, but because Ruby living on his father’s ranch blew his mind. “Uh, sure.”
“Okay, so the blanket has to be even and protecting the horse from the saddle.” Next this petite five-foot-something of a woman positioned the heavy saddle on her knee. “Put the stirrups and straps over the saddle seat so you don’t hit the horse or yourself by accident when you’re saddling up. Now use your leg for support and then knee it up in a whipping motion like this.” With the grace of a ballerina, she heaved the weighty saddle onto the horse’s back. “You want the saddle up a little high on the shoulders first, then slowly go with the grain of the horse’s hair to slide it into place. This way you won’t cause any ruffle to the hair that might irritate the horse later on. Proper saddling should cause your mount no harm at all. Doing it wrong can cause all kinds of sores and injuries.”
“Got it.”
Ruby gave Misty several loving pats on the shoulder. She spoke kindly to the animal, as one would to a friend, and the horse stood stock-still while she continued with a ritual she probably did every day.
Ruby adjusted the front cinch strap. “Make sure it’s not too loose or too tight. Just keep tucking until you run out of latigo. Take a look at how I did this one and you do the back one.”
“Okay, will do.” He made a good attempt at fastening the cinch, Ruby standing next to him. His concentration scattered as she brushed up against him to fix the cinch and buckle it.
“Not bad, Brooks. For your first try.”
Her praise flattered him. And her sweet scent filtering up to his nose blocked out the stable smells.
“Now that Misty is saddled, you want to make sure all buckles are locked in and all your gear is in good shape. Here’s a trick. Slide your hand under the saddle up front.” She placed her small hand under the blanket and saddle. “If your hand goes under with no forcing, you’re good to go and you know your horse isn’t being pinched tight. Isn’t that right, Misty?”
As she stroked Misty’s nose, the horse responded with a turn of her head. The two were old pals, it seemed. Ruby’s big brown eyes lifted to him. “If you want some pointers on riding, I’ve got some time.”
Mentally he winced. He had trouble focusing. He kept thinking about Ruby in his bed. Ruby naked. Ruby making love to him. Feisty, fierce Ruby. He should back away and make an excuse. Gain some perspective. But she was offering him something he needed.
Just like last night.
“Yeah, show me what you’ve got.”
She stared at him for a beat of a second, her face coloring again. They were locked into the memory of last night, when she’d shown him what she had. And it was not to be equaled. “Stop saying stuff like that, Brooks. And we’ll do just fine.”
It was good to know that she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to believe.
“Right. All I can promise is I’ll try.”
* * *
Once Brooks was away from the stable and on horseback, Ruby could breathe again. She’d never expected her one-time, one-night fling to end up being Beau Preston’s long-lost son. The irony in that was killing her.
“You’re not a bad rider, Brooks,” she said to him.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He tipped the hat she’d given him to wear. He didn’t look half bad in a Stetson.
“Actually, you learn fast. You saddled up my horse pretty darn well.”
“If you’re trying to butter me up, it’s working, honey.”
“Just speaking the truth. And can you quit the endearments?”
He smiled. “You don’t like me calling you honey?”
“I’m not your honey, Brooks. Ruby Lopez never has been anyone’s honey.” Except for Trace’s at one time, but the sweetness of the term had soured along with the relationship.
They rode side by side along a path that wound around the property. She wanted out of this conversation. Brooks didn’t need to know about her lack of a love life. But for some reason, when he was around, she did and said things she normally wouldn’t.
“Ruby?”
“Hmm.”
“I find that hard to believe. There’s been no one in your life?”
“No one I care to talk about.”
“Ah, I thought so. You’ve been burned before. The guy must be a loser.”
“He isn’t.” Why on earth was she defending Trace?
“Must be, if he hurt you.”
“Remember what I told you? When you want the horse to stop, pull back on one rein. Not two. Two can toss you forward, and that’s a fight you can’t win.”
“Yeah, I remember, but why—”
“See you later, Brooks!” Ruby gave Storm Cloud a nudge, and the horse fell into a gallop. The ground rumbled underneath her stallion’s hooves, and she leaned back and enjoyed the ride, grinning.
She thought she’d left Misty and her rider in the dust, but one quick look back showed her she was wrong. Brooks wasn’t far behind, encouraging Misty to catch up. Ruby had five lengths on them, at best. But it wasn’t a race. She couldn’t put Brooks in danger. For all his courage and eagerness to learn, he was still a novice. “Whoa, slow up, Cloud.” A slight tug on the rein was all that was needed. Cloud was a gem at voice commands. Beau had given her Storm Cloud on her eighteenth birthday, and she’d trained him herself. They were simpatico.
Brooks caught up to her by a copse of trees and came to a halt. “Is that your way of changing the subject?” His mouth was in a twist.
She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Cute, Ruby.”
“Hey, I’m impressed you caught up.”
“Because you let me.”
“Okay, I let you. But I couldn’t endanger Beau’s long-lost son.”
“One of his sons. I’ve got a twin brother.”
“Oh, no. There are two of you?” She smiled at him. This morning Beau had briefed her on all the sad events of his early life. He’d lost the woman he loved and his twins when she ran away from her abusive father. It was something Ruby had heard rumored, but it was never really spoken about in the Preston household.
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
She tilted her head. “Can the world handle it?”
“The world likes the Newport brothers for the most part. But the question is, can you handle it?”
“I already told you, I’m good with you being here.”
“I might be staying quite a while.”
It was time to set him straight, and she hoped to heaven she could heed her own warning. “You’re a city guy who’s out of place in the country. You run a big company, and I’m at home in a barn. You’re also the son of my best friend and mentor. The man is almost a father to me. You’d better believe I can handle it. There’s no other option, Brooks.”
He gave her a nod, his mouth turning down. “You’re right. But when I look at you and remember...”
“Don’t look at me.”
“You’re hard to miss, honey.”
Honey again? “It’s time to head back.” She didn’t wait for his reply. She turned Storm Cloud around. “Let’s go, Cloud.” With a slight nudge of the stirrup, the horse took off in a canter.
“I didn’t peg you for a runner,” Brooks called out.
But that’s exactly what she was.
This time.
With this man.
She wasn’t lying. She had no other choice.
Four (#u598f6169-c998-524b-ab91-0259ca9619a1)
“You’re cooking?” Brooks asked Ruby as he walked into his father’s kitchen later that day.
Ruby glanced at him from her spot at the stove. She wore a black dress that landed just above her knees, fitting every curve on her body like a glove. A pink polka-dotted apron tied at the neck and waist didn’t detract from the look. Brooks was beginning to think Ruby looked sexy in everything she wore.
“I’m cooking. Beau wanted me to make you a special dinner for your first night here.”
“Do you cook every night?”
“No, that’s Lupe’s job. She’s the best cook in the county, but this recipe comes from my father’s family, and it’s something Beau likes me to cook on occasion.”
Brooks walked over to the stove. “I’m the occasion?”
She smiled. “You’re the occasion.”
He lifted the top off the enamel pot. Steam drifted up, and the scents of Mexico filled the room.
“Be careful. It’s hot,” she said, shoving a pot holder into his hand.
“What is it?”
“It’s called receta de costillas de res en salsa verde. It’s braised short ribs in tomatillo sauce.”
“Smells delicious.”
“It’s not too spicy for a gringo.” Her mouth twisted.
“You’re all the spice I can manage in his house.”
Ruby whipped her head around to the kitchen door. “Dios! Don’t say things like that,” she whispered. “I don’t like lying to Beau.”

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